


Changelings

by Apricitic



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Au of sorts, F/M, canon explanation, switched at birth - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7967572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricitic/pseuds/Apricitic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourteen years ago, a mysterious, glittering force swept through a hospital, and two newborns were given to the wrong parents. In the present day, Adrien Dupain-Cheng is a happy, lazy, well-adjusted kid with lots of friends. Marinette Agreste is a sickly, slightly neurotic perfectionist and fashion prodigy. Their alter-egos, Chat Noir and Ladybug, are rival superheroes who are always fighting over the right to defend Paris and defeat the villainous Papillonne. But what caused the switch-up in the hospital, and why doesn’t anyone seem to notice?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

“…And we’re connected! Hello again, followers. This is Alya, live and on site for the one and only Ladyblog. Today we’re checking in from Le Grand Paris, following the trail of Paris’ new supervillain, one calling himself… Super Mustache!”

Alya’s face filled the screen, excited, smiling wide. It was clear that she was running, and probably should have been looking where she was going instead of talking into a cellphone camera. In the background were the backs of people running the _other_ way, away from the mayor’s hotel, their screams filling the air. Alya’s finger tapped below the camera, and suddenly the view changed from forward-facing to rear, taking in the hotel ahead.

A man in a tuxedo laughed maniacally, twirling his impressively thick mustache. He snapped his cane out suddenly, pointing it at a fleeing man. Red energy shot out from the cane’s tip, and suddenly, a comically large mustache was sprouting from the fleeing man’s face, overwhelming him and wrapping him in layers and layers of thick, grasping hair. Around them on the hotel grounds, roughly two dozen people were in similar dire straits, men, women, and children, covered in still-growing hair that struck, tentacle-like, at anything that came near.

“It’s… one of the more ridiculous villains so far, I’ll admit,” Alya’s voice drifted in over the scenery. Then, muttering, “and that’s saying something. But! If La Papillonne has created another supervillain to terrorize Paris, then who even knows what terrible schemes are planned for this time. The real question, though, is why he’s being allowed to rampage unchecked, and why we haven’t yet seen—over there!”

Super Mustache’s laughter was cut off suddenly by a long silver pole suddenly plunging into the ground, two feet away from him. Two black boots suddenly swung into the camera, kicking him hard moments before he could shoot another beam at someone in the audience.

“Chat Noir!” Alya’s voice sounded off in excitement, yelling to be heard over the screams.

Super Mustache staggered back, cane flailing as he struggled to catch his balance. “You!” he yelled, before swinging the cane for the superhero’s head.

The boy in the black catsuit grinned and sidestepped, the cane whistling as it whipped past inches away from messy blonde hair and black cat ears. “Uh-oh, looks like it’s getting a little _hairy_ out here. Why don’t you _shave_ off a little of that aggression before this gets worse, huh?”

“Well, if it isn’t Chat Noir,” the supervillain growled. “That’s unfortunate. I got stuck with the _annoying_ one today.”

“Oh, what,” Chat Noir said with an easy shrug and smile, twirling his baton as he slowly advanced. “More of a dog person? Tell you what. Reverse whatever it is you’re doing over here, give me your akuma, and we’ll go our separate ways. Deal?”

“No deal!” Super Mustache yelled, raising his cane again. “La Papillonne’s orders were very clear. I’m coming out of here with your ring, and you’re coming out of here with the finest fair mustache that I’ve made today!” The tip of his cane glowed red.

Chat Noir barreled forward suddenly, going from easy-going and carefree to dead serious in the blink of an eye. He tripped Super Mustache up, sending the beam straight into the air to hit an unfortunate pigeon instead. Super Mustache fell onto his back, and Chat Noir jumped on top of him, hammering down with his baton to strike the cane out of the taller man’s hand.

Super Mustache reared up to struggle. As he did, a small can of mustache wax fell out of his pocket, rolled a short ways on the concrete, then clattered down to the ground. It swirled with an unnatural purple and black color, the tell-tale signs of possession. Chat Noir’s and Super Mustache’s eyes followed it from a few feet away. Super Mustache paled. Chat Noir grinned wide, looking around to make sure that someone was still filming him.

“Well, that’s probably it, folks,” Alya was saying to her phone from way too little of a distance to be safe. “Chat Noir has the upper hand, and he’s about to secure the villain and take the akuma.” She sounded almost slightly disappointed. “In another minute or two, that will be another point for Chat Noir, unless, unless…! I don’t believe it!”

A whistling noise. A glint, of red and black zipping by in Chat Noir’s periphery, a small round object on the end of a string. It snapped toward the can of wax, wrapped around it, and zipped back upwards. From the shadow of a rooftop high above on Le Grand Paris, Ladybug stepped out into the sunlight, holding out her hand to catch the yoyo and the object trapped in its string. She smirked.

“Did you see that?” Alya’s voice cried in the background. “Of course you did, followers, ‘cause you’re watching the Ladyblog! Ladybug just swooped in for the victory, at the last possible second! How incredible, how miraculous—“

“Cheater!” Chat Noir yelled from the ground, eyes narrowed. “This one was mine, and you know it!”

“Oh. Was it?” Ladybug’s prim, cold voice called back, tossing the can into the air, then catching it without looking at it. “Then why am I the one holding the akuma?”

“Not for long,” Chat Noir seethed, suddenly extending his baton. It kicked him off into the air, vaulting for her location. On the ground, Super Mustache watched him go, then slowly got to his feet and began to back away.

Ladybug immediately turned, graceful and composed, and zipped away for a nearby balcony, her movements as sure and measured as a ballerina’s. Chat Noir didn’t care. He landed on the rooftop and bounded after her, intent on the can in her hands. His ears warned him to the incoming whistling of her yoyo, and he dodged at the last moment before it could slam into the side of his face. In retaliation, he flicked his baton forward and swept it toward her, trying to knock her legs out from under her. She hopped above it, so he whirled it around, trying to smack it at the hand holding the can. Instead, she caught it, gripping it tight, turning to glare at him over her shoulder.

A shadow passed over them from above, a news helicopter. A cameraman leaned out precariously far from the side of it, trying to get a shot of the stand-off happening below. Behind him, his coworker raised her voice to be heard over helicopter blades.

“This is Nadja Chamack,” the woman called into a second camera, hair whipping in the breeze, the Paris skyline behind her. “Reporting live from above Le Grand Paris, where noted menaces Ladybug and Chat Noir are interfering in yet another supervillain event. Witnesses are already reporting broken glass and roof tiles raining down from above, as their weapons damage yet more private property, and it remains to be seen whether the damage will be resolved before this is all over. I’m joined by public opinion expert Jean LaBiche, who is here to tell us about the growing controversy over whether the two so-called ‘superheroes’ are a help or a hindrance to the law. Jean, can you answer—“

“What a show we’re being treated to today, viewers!” Alya said below, racing along the side of the building with her phone to try to get a better angle on the fight happening above. “As loyal followers of the blog know, I’ve been keeping track of the competition for months now, faithfully reporting on every akuma capture by either side. Now, as you can see, Chat Noir is currently trailing Ladybug by three akumas, so he _badly_ needed this win today to make up the difference. If Ladybug pulls off the steal, it’s only going to be that much harder for him. Now, Ladybug historically and statistically has every advantage, and seems _technically_ to be the better athlete, but with Chat Noir’s combination of good luck and pure effort—“

Oblivious to the cameras, Chat Noir and Ladybug were lunging at each other on the rooftops above, weapons whirling too fast to see. Gleeful laughter from Chat Noir, as he snagged the can and began racing away. The yoyo string wrapped around his ankle and pulled, he tripped and dropped it. It hurtled through the air, before Ladybug swung through suddenly, grabbed it and tossed it in the air, then flung herself up after it. Only for Chat Noir to catch it again even before getting back on his feet. She grabbed at his hands, he tackled her, and then they were rolling over and over each other, coming dangerously close to toppling off of the sloped edge of the section of roof they were currently on.

A red beam blasted into the tiles just over Ladybug’s shoulder, smoking and sending up a small patch of hairy slate filaments before fizzling out. Ladybug jerked, glancing toward the ground, where Super Mustache had found his cane again. “You didn’t even secure your supervillain?” she hissed, kicking out at Chat Noir. “And you dare to call yourself a superhero.”

“I was about to,” he gritted, “before someone came along and stole my akuma!”

“Oh please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “As if you didn’t steal mine the other day.”

“Well, you _started_ it!” He threw her off, and slammed the can into the damaged roof surface, breaking it. The sooner the akuma was caught, the sooner Super Hipster or whatever would cool it with the hair growth beams.

Ladybug landed, skidding, and whipped her yoyo out for the fleeing butterfly that erupted from the can of wax. Chat Noir’s baton was already waiting for her though, intercepting the string, causing it to catch and wrap around the shiny metal. He flung the baton aside and bounded up, clapping his black claws over the fluttering insect, triumph on his face.

Only for the smile to disappear as the roof’s edge immediately buckled under him upon landing. There was a crack, and then he was falling, into open air, his heart hammering as fast as the wings of the akuma struggling desperately inside his clasped hands. There was no time to cry out, or plan, or do anything. He didn’t have his baton. He was frozen, watching the ground hurtle up to him, his ears filled with wind and the sound of screams from the spectators below, whistling, whistling—

Red and black. The yoyo zipped around his midsection, then suddenly snapped tight, stopping his fall. He gasped, wind squeezed out of his lungs. The ground was maybe ten feet below him, swaying. No, he way swaying, on the tip of the yoyo, watching the butterfly slip out of his shaking fingers. Had Ladybug just saved his—

His eyes widened as the yoyo suddenly snapped sideways, unwrapping and dropping him. Frantically, he grabbed out at anything, until his claws latched onto a rain gutter, tearing lines into it before finally bringing his fall to a stop. He clung there, gasping, and slowly looked up.

With a smirk and a flourish, Ladybug bowed, pirouetted, and swung her yoyo in exactly three circles before snapping it out over the rising akuma. “Never fear, Paris!” she called out loudly, to every camera listening in. “ _Ladybug_ saves the day today. You’ve done enough, little akuma. I’m purifying you from evil!”

The crowd erupted in cheers. Only Chat Noir, clinging to the side of the building with all of his senses heightened, noticed what everyone else missed. The yoyo had come so close, within millimeters of the akuma. Only for the akuma to jerk to the side at the last moment. As far as anyone else could tell, it was inside the yoyo, being spun around even now while Ladybug smiled for the crowd. Chat Noir spotted,though, the dark shape, barely visible in the busy skyline, still flying away.

He clenched his teeth and bound after it, out of view of the cameras.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” his rival called above him, snapping her yoyo up. The crowd erupted into impressed yells and applause as light and swarms of ladybugs filled the air, sweeping over the building and removing every last ounce of hair.

“Wow, look at that!” Alya called from below, “Another win for Ladybug! She really is incredible, isn’t she? Chat Noir is now trailing by four. Hang on, let me see if I can get a quick interview…!” She began running toward the house, waving her arms to get Ladybug’s attention.

Ladybug smiled at the different cameras in different directions, more reporters starting to come in now that the supervillain had been neutralized, and was slowly coming to on the steps below. She waved for the cameras, and then frowned for a moment, looking in the direction that Chat Noir had run off toward.

 

.:|:.

 

The alley between major streets was dark and dusty, not on the good side of town. The buildings crowded close, and hung over, generally making it gloomy and a little hard to see. That is, if one didn’t have night vision.

To Chat Noir, the small amount of daylight trickling in between dumpsters and piles of broken furniture and other junk was still more than enough. He sprang forward, bounding off a moldy sofa, ricocheting off a wall, then batting hard at the dark butterfly hanging in the air. Stunned, it dropped, and he grabbed it before landing on his heels. He exhaled slowly, crouched low, feeling it flutter against his palms through the strange texture of his black gloves.

“Give it here.”

He didn’t look up at the superheroine, perched on top of an iron gate at the other end of the alley, several yards away. “Well, well. Look who the cat _finally_ dragged in. Could you tear yourself away from your loving interviewers for once?”

“Give it a rest, kitty,” Ladybug scoffed. “When you win, you ham it up in front of the cameras even more than I do. You also want to win. Don’t be bitter just because it didn’t happen today.”

“Didn’t it?” Chat Noir lifted his clasped hands, finally sparing her a look. “You missed. I guess the great and wonderful Ladybug isn’t as perfect as she claims, huh?”

Ladybug’s face flushed slightly, before she shook it off. “I was still going to catch it. I just didn’t want to alarm them, that’s all. They all thought that I captured it, so—“

“Yeah, yeah. Spare me, alright? We both know you just didn’t want to look bad in front of other people.” He adjusted his fingers around the struggling wings, frowning. “You’ve got, what, two dots on your miraculous? You’d better fly away home, Ladybug. Your house is on fire and your children alone.”

She frowned. “What?”

“Forget it.” He turned his back on her.

“Wait,” she said, hopping down from the gate. She spread her hands in a temporary peace offering. “At least give that to me, before you go.”

“Why?” he asked. “Got a photographer that wants a picture?”

“Stop being stubborn,” she said. “I’m the only one who can purify it, and you know it. Look, I know you’re mad. And sure, I’ll admit it, you caught it before I got here.”

“Oh, you’ll admit it _here_ , with no one else around,” he said.

“Stop it!” she said, getting frustrated. “You’re being a child. We need to get rid of that thing before La Papillonne tries to use it again! I mean, neither of us really won, but it all turned out okay in the end, so I don’t see why—“

Chat Noir opened his fingers, holding one of the butterfly’s fragile wings between thumb and forefinger. At first she thought he must have crushed it, held too tightly. But then she realized that, no, that was just the way the insect’s wings were shaped, looking a little like a broke leaf. It was definitely dark, but more of a dark brown than a black, bands across its rumpled wings beneath two fuzzy antennae.

“ _Le Sphinx du Peuplier_ ,” Chat Noir said, frowning. “The Poplar Hawk-Moth, I think. Not even a real butterfly. I lost the akuma for a while, then thought I found it again, but I’ve been following the wrong one. If you had just caught it right away instead of showboating—no, if you just hadn’t interfered in the first place--!”

Ladybug’s frown tightened. “I’ll still find it. I’ll make it right. I don’t _make mistakes_. If… If you want, you can even come with me to—“

“We’ve tried that before,” he spat. “We end up fighting every time.” He let go of the moth, watching it flutter away. “Face it, Ladybug. We are _completely_ opposites. You and I, we will never be friends.”

He turned to go. This time, Ladybug didn’t stop him. Fine, then. They would race to recover the escaped akuma. She felt the burst of energy as her earrings stopped flashing, and she suddenly detransformed, light peeling away to reveal her school clothes. Deceptively casual, though very expensive, a stylish skirt and blouse and jacket and pumps.

She ran the back of her hand over her eyes, getting a hold of herself before reaching into her bag. Her father kept catching her with cookies and other treats in the little purse, furious with her for breaking her diet. She couldn’t exactly explain to him that she wasn’t the one eating them, could she? She bent down, breaking a cookie in half and offering it to the little red kwami now sitting on a busted tire. “Here, Tikki. Thank you for your help today. We almost got it.”

“Marinette,” Tikki said, antennae drooping as she accepted the snack. “I appreciate that you’re trying hard. But you _really_ need to be focusing on the akuma in these battles. Every time you get distracted by competing with Chat Noir…”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she said, reaching up to smooth her hair back into place. “You can’t really blame me, though. He’s so infuriating and impossible…” Frustrated, she dug her phone out of her purse and began checking her text messages.

The first one was a picture of her father, Gabriel Agreste, standing in front of a curtain. Backstage, at a fashion show. Pointing to his watch with an angry expression. To show that the fashion show was about to start. In twenty minutes.

“Eep!”

Tikki looked up, startled, as Marinette suddenly scooped her up and began running. “Marinette? What are you--?”

“I’m in so much trouble,” she said, fumbling with the phone for a moment before pressing it to her ear. “…Nathalie? Yes. Yes, it’s me. Please, can you tell Father that I am _almost_ there? There was, uh, um… a problem with the cab! No, you don’t need to send the limo to pick me up!”

She ran down the alley, ducking and dodging, expertly navigating through the labyrinth of back streets. The moment Nathalie finally hung up, she was transforming again, swinging herself up onto the rooftops and back toward the wealthier parts of the city at top speed.

In the trail of dust behind her, something glittered, just for a moment. It hung unseen in the air, then seemed to vanish, downshifting on the light spectrum until it couldn’t be seen by anyone anymore.


	2. Part Two

“Adrien, honey, time to wake up!” his mother called from the base of the stairs, for the third time. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

Adrien mumbled sleepily into his pillow, rolling over and pulling the warm blankets up over his face. “Ten more minutes won’t hurt, right?” he whispered.

“Ten?” Plagg answered from the floor, where he had nestled into a pile of clean laundry that Adrien hadn’t quite gotten around to folding yet. “Five ounces of camembert says we can sleep in twenty more minutes and still make it on time.”

Adrien smiled, eyes drifting back closed as he sank further into the pillow. “You’re a bad influence. But I’ll take that bet.”

Peaceful quiet, drifting, seconds stretching into long minutes…

_DUN-dun-dun-DUHDDUN!_

Adrien yelled, startled by the loud dubstep suddenly blaring at him. He lashed out wildly, half-falling out of bed. The headphones that had been pushed down around his ears went askew, clattering to the floor.

“Nino,” he growled, trying to settle his heartbeat. “This is NOT cool.”

Nino laughed, shutting off the music. “What can I say, man? You should have been on the sidewalk thirty minutes ago. Someone had to come up and get you moving.”

Creaking wood, over by his wardrobe. “Wow,” a female voice said. “No wonder you’re always such a fashion disaster. Do you have anything that matches anything else in here?”

“Alya’s here too?” Adrien said, sitting up straight. Then suddenly panicked, remembering. But Plagg was nowhere to be found. It seemed the kwami had heard Adrien’s two friends coming up the stairs and hidden, but not bothered to warn Adrien on the way.

“Um, hello!” Alya said, tossing him a shirt that was only mildly tacky, followed by a pair of jeans. “That’s our thing, right? Walking to school together. Or at least, when you can remember to wake up on time!”

“Okay, okay, I’m moving!” Adrien said, stumbling out of bed. “Just… Give me a second, okay?” He staggered across the room to the bathroom, and quickly shut himself inside, trying to rush through the process of making himself presentable. He looked at his phone and groaned. Thirty-five minutes had passed since his alarm. If he didn’t hurry, they were all going to be late. Again.

“He’s such a boy,” Alya’s voice said from outside.

Nino cleared his throat meaningfully, being well-dressed and on time.

“You know what I mean. Look at this place.” Alya’s voice was amused, though. “It’s very Adrien. I guess we know he didn’t sleep in because he was up so late studying to bring his grades up, right?”

More like he had been out patrolling until past 3 AM, Adrien thought, but he couldn’t tell them that.

“You know what I think?” Nino said, tone teasing. “He probably stayed in bed because of the akuma attack yesterday. He knew that as soon as he saw you, you were going to jump him with all the fine details and statistics.”

Inside the bathroom, Adrien perked up at that. Brushing his teeth with one hand, he navigated his phone with the other, pulling up the Ladyblog. Sure enough, it was bursting with updates, video footage, highlight reels, interviews, pictures. And a poll, in the upper right-hand corner.

WHO HAS YOUR SUPPORT?  
TEAM LADYBUG: 53%  
TEAM CHAT NOIR: 41%  
TEAM AKUMA: 6%

He rolled his eyes and resumed brushing. It was just a bad luck streak at the moment, he was sure of it. People always voted for whoever was the lead, in politics or sports or anything else. As soon as he got ahead by a few points, the polls would swing his way again. Probably.

“Whatever, Nino,” Alya said. Rustling sounds, as she began throwing Adrien’s books and papers into his backpack for him. “You’re just mad because Ladybug is in the lead again. I know you’re a Chat Noir fan.”

“So is anyone who knows what they’re doing,” Nino said.

Adrien smiled. Good ol’ Nino.

“It’s more fun to root for the underdog.”

Adrien frowned. Thanks a lot Nino.

On the website, the page temporarily blurred as it refreshed itself. Ladybug was up to 55% now.

He finished pulling his shirt on and opened the door, running his fingers through his hair. “Come on. Are we going to school or what?” He paused for just a moment. Nino and Alya had turned toward him, temporarily distracted. He watched just long enough to see Plagg emerge from hiding behind a stack of CDs and slip quietly into a side pocket of his backpack. Then he grinned. “Race you there?”

 

.:|:.

 

Marinette was having a breathing attack. Her chest was tight as she bent over herself, fingers gripped tightly around the pencil she had been using just moments before. She could hear her breath in her ears, ragged and way too fast, struggling to get air into her overworked lungs. Eyes watering, she pawed down toward the bottom of her seat at the top of the school steps, trying to grab her purse.

Her inhaler poked itself out of the bag, held up by two small red hands.

She wanted to thank Tikki, but couldn’t get out more than a choked rasp. Coughing, she gripped the inhaler, sealing her lips around it, pressed down, and _breathed._

It took a couple of torturous minutes for the medicine to work its way in, soothing and calming her panicking respiratory system. She waited just a little longer before taking a second puff, grimacing. Then coughed one more time and turned back to triple-checking her homework.

The academy courtyard had been quiet when she had first gotten here, earlier than almost anyone else. But now, two hours later, it was filling up quickly, becoming loud and slightly crowded in the short lull before the morning’s first classes began. With other people came all sorts of things that could set off her breathing problems. Mold, pollen. Cat fur. Strong perfume--

_”Mari!”_

Someone half-jumped on her from behind, nearly knocking her off the stairs, and sending her still-burning lungs into another coughing spasm. She choked for a minute, then reached up to grab the arms wrapping tight around her shoulders. “Hello, Chloe. Good morning?”

“You’re always so stiff,” Chloe said, laughing as she finally let Marinette go. “Come on. I know I scared you. Not even a little of a reaction?”

“Sorry,” Marinette said. “I was just focusing, that’s all. Maths problems.” She waved at Sabrina, two steps behind Chloe. Sabrina waved back, her smile tight with jealousy and mistrust.

“Of course you were. You’re _so smart_ ,” Chloe said, slinging an arm over Marinette’s shoulders and pulling her close in a move of calculated camaraderie. “That’s my _best friend_ , after all, right? Bourgeois and Agreste, sticking together since forever.” She paused, just for a moment. “Although. If you want a break from being smart, I had Sabrina make two versions of the essay for today. If you want one—“

“Thank you, but no,” Marinette said. “Mine is already done.”

Chloe laughed again, undeterred. “Typical Mari! You know, I was thinking. I heard you’re meeting with Jagged Stone this weekend for a shoot, and I thought it would be _so fun_ if we could do that together! What do you think?”

“I don’t know, Chloe,” Marinette said, shifting uncertainly. “It’s just a quick shoot. There’s not really going to be a lot of time for autographs and talking, and—“

“Whew, and thank goodness, right?” Chloe said, leaning on Mari with a casual smile. “Because—I mean, you know I love you, right? But talking? _So_ not your strong suit. You need me for this! You know you do. Otherwise it’s just going to be all awkward!”

“Well, I think--”

“BOOM! Nino wins!”

They jerked, startled, as Nino ran past the base of the steps, followed closely by Alya. Then, several long, long moments after, Adrien jogged after them, dead last. Nino slowed ahead, arms lifted victoriously in the air as he turned to gloat.

“Oh, great,” Chloe said, rolling her eyes. “The three musketeers have arrived. Gee, wonder if they could be any louder or more obnoxious.”

Marinette glanced at Chloe, amused. “They’re not too loud or obnoxious, apparently. Or at least, you don’t think Adrien--”

Chloe stiffened, glaring at her suddenly. “As if. Out of all of the boys at this school that I could pick from, why would I ever go out with a ruffian like Dupain-Cheng?”

She said that, but Marinette ran in the same circles as she did, had been to her hotel suite on more than one occasion. She had noticed the pictures on the wall, the love letter drafts hastily stashed under other objects. She was debating whether to point that out or let it be, when movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

“Wait! Alya!” she yelled.

Far ahead, Alya had been moving sideways to playfully bump into Nino, to cut off his joking taunts. She turned at Marinette’s voice, smile freezing on her face.

Marinette stepped away from Chloe, hurrying forward a meter or so to scoop up a history textbook that was now laying on the ground of the dusty courtyard. “You dropped this,” she called, beginning to carry it toward Alya. “I didn’t want you to leave it behind without realizing it, so…”

Alya exhaled, then turned and walked toward her, watching her distrustfully. She hesitated before taking the book back. “Thanks. I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Marinette said. “What were you racing f--”

“What?” Alya muttered to herself, already turning away. “Am I going to find gum on this too?”

Marinette went still.

Alya had already shrugged the encounter off, was running back toward Nino. “Rematch,” she yelled, eyes glinting with competitive determination. “Top of the stairs.”

“Okay with me, man,” Nino said, whipping back around to the front of the building. “Get ready to lose twice in one morning!”

They both took off running. Adrien started to groan and chase after them, then paused, looking back.

“Um, Good morning, Marinette,” he said awkwardly, waving. “Are you ready for this test tod--”

“Excuse me,” she said, turning away abruptly. “I need to go print out my essay.” She had shut down, freezing out any emotion on her face. Stiffly, she walked over to her purse and book bag, scooped them up, and began walking at high speed toward a staircase on the far opposite side of the courtyard.

Adrien hesitated, looking back in the direction his friends had run. He battled with himself for a long second, then gave in and followed her.

 

.:|:.

 

Alya won the second round. On the open ground, Nino and his long legs were faster, but in the enclosed, winding stretch of the stairwell, she was better at cutting corners and switching direction. They had run all the way up to the top floor in a competitive fury, before realizing that, oh wait, first period was only on the second floor. Nino stayed behind for a moment to talk to one of the upperclassmen teachers, as long as he was already up there, something about borrowing audio-visual equipment for some sort of project. Alya, much less eager to be late to class, went ahead without him.

She grinned to herself as she hopped down the first flight of steps, onto a landing. She was still full of adrenaline, happy at winning the rematch, hugging her history textbook to her chest. She didn’t even notice the figure standing in the shadows until someone shoved into her back, hard, sending her falling.

“Whah--!” She stumbled down the first three steps before catching onto the railing, heart beating fast. Even more adrenaline, now, as she looked at the steep stairs she had almost tumbled down. She whirled behind her baffled--

“Chloe,” she growled, suddenly glaring.

“Aw, poor, klutzy Alya,” Chloe purred from the landing above, Sabrina right behind her as always. “You really shouldn’t be running up and down the stairs like that. It would be _so sad_ if you happened to trip and fall.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Alya yelled. “I could have been seriously hurt!”

Less than a minute before class started across the building, and this wasn’t one of the main stairwells. There was no one else in earshot.

“Have you lost yours?” Chloe replied, voice dropping to a menacing level. “I saw the way you acted with my Marinette earlier. You are _not even_ on our level, New Girl. I want an apology.”

“What, for hurting one of your little cronies?” Alya asked, eyes flicking back to Sabrina for a moment. “Look. You can be as rude and snarky as you want. I don’t care. But I ain’t even about to let you start pushing me around. I--” _Don’t punch her in the face, Alya. Don’t get yourself suspended. Even if it’s totally worth it._ “I’m going to go straight to Mr. Damocles, if you don’t step off in about two seconds.”

Chloe smirked. She wasn’t afraid of Mr. Damocles, and everyone knew it. “How are you going to do that?” she asked, pretend-innocent. “Give him a phone call?”

Behind her, Sabrina smirked and held up a cellphone, with a tell-tale Ladybug charm dangling from it. Apparently, while Chloe had pushed Alya, Sabrina had focused on picking her pocket.

“Give it back!” Alya yelled, starting up the stairs.

“Or what?” Chloe asked. “Careful, Cesaire. I’d hate to see you trip again.”

“Hey.”

A door creaked closed above them. Nino looked down at them from a railing above. His own phone was angled down at Chloe and Sabrina, poised to take a photo with one twitch of his thumb. His expression was dark.

Chloe stared up at him for a moment, then scoffed. “It’s a good thing you plebes run in herds, I guess,” she said, reluctantly holding up her hands in a giving-up gesture. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter.”

Sabrina was pale, much more worried about getting in trouble than Chloe was. “Easy,” she said, eyes on Nino as she slowly began to hold out the phone toward Alya. “We can just--”

“Whoops!” Chloe said suddenly, swatting at the phone before it could reach Alya. It went flying.

“No!” Alya yelled. She lunged halfway over the side of the railing, reaching to grab the phone before it could drop. But she couldn’t move fast enough. It plummeted down the middle of the stairwell, before hitting the bottom of the basement level with a shattering noise.

“Oh my, what an unlucky accident!” Chloe said, putting a hand to her mouth in fake shock. “Uh-oh! Well, Sabrina, let’s go. We’re late enough as it is.

Sabrina was looking above with wide eyes. But Nino’s face was grimacing. He had been watching for Chloe to possibly shove Alya again. He hadn’t expected Chloe to make a quick, blurry strike toward the phone instead, hadn’t processed it fast enough to get the picture.

Chloe made an impatient noise and looped her arm through Sabrina’s, tugging her down with her. She shoved past a shocked Alya, who was too busy staring at her busted phone to respond “That’s the thing about people who pick on _my_ people,” Chloe said as she strolled casually down the steps. “Even if it takes a while, they do tend to get just what’s coming to them. I still haven’t heard that apology, Cesaire. I sure hope you don’t end up tripping and falling off of anything else.”

 

.:|:.

 

Adrien had half-expected Marinette to be lying, about going to the library. It was something he might have done, if he wanted to get away from people. Say he was going to the library and then sneak off to the gym or something instead.

But there she was, sitting at an empty table among the deserted shelves, head buried in her arms. Behind her, one of the printers was slowly chugging out a neatly-formatted essay. Sheets of thick drawing paper were scattered over the table’s surface, dress designs that she had started working on, only to abruptly stop. He almost thought that she had fallen asleep. But every few seconds, her shoulders trembled, tight with some silenced emotion.

He hesitated before sitting down across from her, trying to force a light-hearted smile. “It’s, uh, not like you to cut class.”

Silence. He frowned. He had made the wrong choice-- she probably wanted to be left alone. He opened his mouth to apologize, starting to stand again--

“I have a medical exemption,” she said, words muffled slightly. “If I go to the nurse soon, she’ll write me a note.”

“Ah. I see.” She _was_ very short for her age, thin-framed and delicate-looking, Adrien thought. But he hadn’t known there were health issues.

An awkward pause.

“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked after a moment, still muffled. “Cutting class?”

“Hm.” Adrien glanced at a clock hanging on the wall not far away. Class had started about twelve minutes ago. “I guess so. I dunno. I’ll come up with an excuse later, I guess.”

Another awkward pause. Marinette looked up at him, blowing her bangs out of her eyes.

“A-anyway,” Adrien said, heating up slightly under the pressure of her attention. “I th-think, Alya… She didn’t mean that, in the courtyard earlier.”

Marinette frowned, looking away. “Yes she did.”

“I m-mean, well… At least, she wouldn’t have wanted to hurt your feelings,” Adrien recovered. “I don’t think she knows that she did, or she would have apologized. I’m… I’m sorry, for her.”

“You can’t just apologize for other people,” Marinette said.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Besides.” Marinette ran her hands through her hair, distracted. “It makes sense, from her point of view. She thinks I put gum on her chair. I’d be mad at me too.”

Adrien considered that. He remembered that day, at the beginning of the school year. They had seated Alya and Marinette, the two new girls, together at first. He remembered walking in with Nino, his best friend since primary school, to the fight happening. Marinette kneeling beside Alya’s seat, Alya yelling at Marinette, calling her a bully and a coward. It was the whole reason they had started hanging out with Alya in the first place. Nino had a soft spot for people who were being picked on, having trouble fitting in.

“Well. Didn’t you?” Adrien asked.

Marinette hesitated. Then slowly exhaled. “...No. It was Chloe. Alya said something to make her mad, and she thought it would be funny. I was trying to remove it. But then Alya walked in, and…”

“Really?” Adrien frowned. He could see it. Chloe had had a nasty streak for as long as he could remember. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you tell Alya the truth? You could have stood up for yourself. There were probably other people in the classroom who saw it too, right?”

Marinette was silent, chewing her lip. She twisted a pencil in her hands nervously.

“Was it to protect Chloe?” he tried. That was one reason he might have done it. “She’s your friend or something, right? Were you afraid she would turn on you?”

“I’m not worried about that,” Marinette said, still not quite meeting his eyes.

“...Oh.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“You’re shy,” Adrien said, realizing. “I wouldn’t have guessed. You’re so…” Famous, on the cover of all sorts of magazines, and billboards, and television spots, and sides of buses. “You don’t seem like someone who would be nervous around other people.”

Marinette shrugged, embarrassed. “Well, I haven’t had much practice. Around other people, that is. She was angry, and yelling at me, and I just… I froze. I didn’t know what to say, or do, and…”

And she had just stared back at Alya, not denying any of the accusations that were being thrown at her, Adrien thought. Which of course would have convinced Alya that the accusations were true. Everyone was always put off by Marinette’s icy exterior, thinking that she didn’t want to talk to anyone, when really, it seemed, she just didn’t know how to, yet.

Adrien’s expression softened. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That must have been hard.”

Marinette tugged on the pencil, fighting to keep her expression still. “It’s all… kind of ridiculous. You wouldn’t believe how much effort it took to convince my father to allow me to come here. He still doesn’t think it’s a good idea. But I was so determined, so desperate to be around people my age for once, to try to make friends…” The pencil jerked violently in her hands, for just a second. “It’s pretty dumb. I haven’t made a single one since I’ve been here. I’m just bad at this.”

“Marinette…”

She ran a hand over her face. “Sorry. I kind of unloaded on you there. I didn’t mean to complain.”

He frowned for a moment, then shook it off, shifting to an easygoing smile. “What about me? We could be friends.”

She focused on him again, studying him. “Thank you. But you don’t have to out of pity or anything.”

“No, it’s not that!” he insisted. “I’d like to be! You seem really…” Captivating. Beautiful. Smart, nice. Just generally amazing. “...interesting! And I’d like to get to know you better. How bad could it be, being friends with me, right?”

She smiled, a small, amused one. Adrien had never seen her really smile before. “Not bad, probably. Thank you. I… I think I’d like that.”

“Then it’s settled,” Adrien said, leaning back in his chair. “We’re hanging out now.” He looked down at the designs for a moment, then suddenly brightened. “Oh! Do you like cats?”

Among all the formal gowns and suits, prim and proper designs, was a single sporty-looking sundress. A cute one, black with green accents and jewelry, with a cat motif that included little ears in the hair.

Marinette’s face turned bright red, and she averted her eyes. “Something like that. That one’s just for fun! It’s not serious.”

“Well, it should be! It looks great to me, anyways. You know,” he said, teasing, leaning forward. “I always thought I could make a pretty decent model. What do you think?” He lifted the sketch of the sundress. “Could I pull it off?”

She was laughing. Behind her hand, a little quiet, but she was actually laughing. Adrien grinned back at her, heart light.

 

.:|:.

 

The man who had a day before been Super Mustache ran for his life down the dark back street, breathing hard. Behind him, he could hear the police sirens, shouts from men running and searching for him. He shouldn’t have run. But what choice did he have? He was not a rich man.

He couldn’t remember being akumatized at all. But it was all over the news, the things he had supposedly done at the Bourgeois place the day before. He almost didn’t believe it-- there wasn’t any damage left, after Ladybug had done her trick! And still, Andre Bourgeois had the nerve to go on television, and call for him to be arrested, to be tried for the assault.

It wasn’t his fault! None of it was his fault. But what would it matter, in court? Bourgeois was rich, and had access to the best lawyers. And here he was, in contrast, kneeling by a dumpster, listening nervously to the sirens, watching as a butterfly-shaped shadow fell over the back of his hand--!

“N-no!” he yelled, too late. “Wait!”

The akuma ignored him, vanishing into the back of his jacket. He huddled as the world around him darkened, and pink light appeared in front of his eyes.

 _Good evening, Super Mustache,_ she said in his head.

“No, that’s not my name! Get out!”

 _Poor, poor man,_ she said softly, her words crooning and comforting. _It’s so unfair, isn’t it? They won’t even listen to you. And they won’t let you be, either! I can feel your pain, your frustration! You’ve been running for hours now, and still, they keep finding you, no matter where you go. Do you wonder why that is?_

“Please… I don’t want to do this anymore. Please just get out of my head…”

Images flashed before his eyes. Nadja Chamack, narrating the news, cameras following him everywhere he ran. And a smaller, amateur video feed, taken from a cellphone, showing Alya Cesaire’s face for just a moment before swivelling around to follow Super Mustache.

_There are eyes everywhere you go, watching, waiting, betraying. It’s uncivilized, isn’t it? As long as they film you, you will never know peace. If you want it to stop, you know what you have to do._

“Get rid of them,” the man muttered. “The reporters, the bloggers…” He shook his head, and whimpered, curling in on himself. “...No. I don’t want to. I don’t want to do this! Find someone else. I just want to go home…”

La Papillonne laughed in his ears, as dark energy began to swirl and drip around him. _Poor fool. You actually think I would let you refuse. Be grateful I’ve taken your wishes into account as much as I have, peasant. You have your orders. Now march!_

The man gave one last shudder as the darkness overtook him. Within ten minutes, he was back out on the street, attacking the police and destroying every camera in sight.

 

.:|:.

 

Tom Dupain pushed through the door separating the shop front from the kitchen, singing loudly and cheerfully as he hefted a large tray of freshly baked croissants over one broad shoulder. He waved to the customers milling around the bakery’s display cases, before reaching to open one. Flipping a pair of tongs with expert control, he caught them, and began filling the case with orderly rows of the little pastries, song rising to a crescendo.

The bell rang as the front door opened. He turned, grinning. “Hello! Welcome to-- Adrien!”

Adrien barely had time to slip the backpack from his shoulders before his father picked him up and half crushed him in a bear hug. He laughed as he was swung around, a little unsteady when he was finally set back on the ground. “Good to see you too, Papa.”

Tom grinned and slipped a warm croissant into Adrien’s hand, before reaching up to ruffle his messy blonde hair. “I’d ask you how your day was. But we’ve already received a call from the school. Off to a good start to the week, then, huh?”

“It was just one class!” Adrien said, retrieving his backpack from the floor. “And I think it was just going to be a lecture or something-- it’s probably all in the book. I’ll catch up with Nino for the homework, and it will be like nothing ever happened tomorrow!”

“Mmhmm.” Tom slung his arm around Adrien’s shoulders, steering him toward the front counter at the back of the shop, away from the customers. He dropped his voice a little. “Your mother isn’t happy, son. You can do _better_ than this. I know you can. Look, I was the same way when I was your age. I understand, really. But if you can’t get better grades this year--”

“I know, Papa,” Adrien said, drooping a little. Struggling to suppress a yawn. Tonight was going to be another late night for sure. “I’m sorry.”

Tom looked down at him for a moment, concerned. Then sighed and shrugged it off, back to a good mood. “I’ll probably have to ground you from something. But we’ll talk more about it later. In the meantime, do you mind watching the front counter for me for ten minutes? We can’t keep macaroons on the shelf today-- I’m going to have to go stick another emergency batch in the oven.”

“Sure,” Adrien said, stashing his backpack behind the counter and hopping up onto the stool. “Take your time!”

Tom patted his shoulder one more time before heading off into the back.

Plagg waited for a few minutes to pass before sneaking out of Adrien’s backpack, peeking up over the edge of the counter, careful not to be seen. “Camembert?”

“Plagg, this is a bakery,” Adrien said, reluctantly opening his chemistry textbook on the counter. “Not a cheese shop.”

“Kwamis can’t live on bread alone, you know,” he whined.

“And money doesn’t grow on trees,” Adrien retorted under his breath, wary of the customers. “I only get so much allowance each week! Can’t you at least settle for a cheaper kind of cheese?”

“Sacrilege!” Plagg said, sinking back below the counter, to rest on a stack of papers in one of the shelves beneath it. “How can you be so mean to me? Nice people like your father don’t even get very mad at you when you skip class, but you won’t even _feed_ the one working so hard to keep you superpowered!”

“My parents love me,” Adrien said, absently doodling on a piece of scratch paper. “They get disappointed, but they don’t really get mad. I could probably rob a bank, and it wouldn’t change how they felt.” And he knew that, and could count on it. And as a result, he didn’t stress much, or worry about earning anyone’s approval, could kind of take it easy maybe a little more than was wise.

“Ugh, fine,” Plagg said, turning reluctantly in the direction of the shop. “Should I settle for bread or sweets today?”

The phone began to ring.

“Hold on,” he said, reaching for the receiver without looking at it. “Good afternoon!” he said. “You’ve reached Tom and Sabine’s. How can I help you?”

“下午好！我是从上海的天体厨房打来的。Sabine 是吗？”

“Pardon?” Adrien said, blinking. “I’m sorry, uh, do you speak French? I don’t know what’s…”

A pause. Then the woman’s voice returned, pleasant and even, if slightly accented. “My apologies. This _is_ the bakery where Sabine Cheng works, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Adrien said, relieved to be back on familiar ground.

“Excellent! I’m calling today on behalf of Chef Wang Cheng.” She waited a moment, as though that should have elicited some response. When Adrien didn’t have one, she finally continued. “You may have heard-- there’s a competition taking place in your city in a few weeks, very exciting. World-class chefs are flying in from all over the world to compete, and Cheng-shifu is very happy to have been selected as one of them! Now, his schedule is a little busy, but he was very clear to me, he wants to arrange a time--”

“Wait,” Adrien said, dusty, distant memories clicking into place. “Uncle Wang? The one that lives in Shanghai?”

“Well, just outside it, the last couple of years,” the woman replied. “I believe you would call it a ‘suburb’? Anyways, he’s very eager to have a meal with your family. A lunch, a dinner-- his schedule is filling up fast, but he is willing to move things around to fit yours, whatever would be convenient--”

“Adrien.” Sabine had crept up so silently, Adrien hadn’t noticed her at all. Her eyes were like steel. “Give me the phone.”

Adrien wordlessly handed it over. Sabine turned slightly away, and launched into a torrent of angry Chinese. Her voice started out low and measured, but as the woman on the other line argued with her, it rose higher and higher, almost to a fever pitch. Finally, upset, Sabine yelled some last thing before slamming the phone down onto its receiver.

They waited there for what seemed like forever, Adrien sitting on the stool watching her, Sabine standing facing the phone, her back turned. The customers didn’t seem to pay them much attention, carrying on their own conversations in the background.

“Was that really Uncle Wang?” Adrien asked, when he finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “The one from the pictures?”

"Your great uncle, actually." Sabine turned and quietly wrapped her arms around him, holding him for a moment before laying a gentle kiss on the side of his face. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that. He gets more and more persistent every year.”

“It’s fine,” Adrien said, perplexed. “She was really nice and polite!”

Sabine exhaled and let go of him, then leaned over, opening the cash register. She began to count bills, clearly distracted.

“Mama? You never talk about Uncle Wang. You used to be close, right? Why…” He hesitated. He was already on thin ice after the school thing. “Why don’t we get along with him, anymore?”

A frustrated sigh from his mother. “It’s complicated. He’s changed a lot. He’s not at all the man I grew up with, anymore.”

“Papa says you started fighting around the time that I was born,” Adrien pressed.

“Does he?” Sabine glanced sideways at him, amused by his stubbornness. “It’s not your fault, _cherie_. You shouldn’t worry about that.”

“Then what…?”

“He was very excited to meet you,” Sabine said, flipping through a stack of bills. Business was slightly better than usual today. “It was sweet, at first. He called every day, while I was pregnant, asking how I was feeling, telling me that he was going to take off from his job as an apprentice to a traditional chef in lower Shanghai, to fly out to be with me. But things became busy, and he couldn’t make it on time. And then there was the accident, you were born so early, and then he suddenly… suddenly…”

Sabine went still for just the slightest moment longer than natural. Her eyes unfocused, hands freezing on the bills. Just for an instant, something glimmered in the air around her, something golden.

Then she shook it off and was back to counting money. “The doctors made some kind of mistake. Did you know they told us that you were going to be a girl? It was such a mess! All of our friends and relatives had pooled together to buy us all these pretty little toys and dresses and night gowns for a little girl, and then we had to take them all back. On top of that, you were so ahead of schedule! I was just a little over twenty-seven weeks, and we were panicking all the way to the hospital, wondering if you were going to make it.” She smiled at him. “Yet, somehow, there you were, our healthy baby boy, at a good weight, no major health problems. A miracle.

“We were so happy. But then Wang flew in, as soon as he heard I had gone into labor. And from the moment he arrived in the hospital, he began making trouble.” Her face darkened. “He thought you couldn’t possibly be mine. He just went on and on, about how I was supposed to be having a girl, how you didn’t look like me, how the circumstances of the birth were too strange-- all kinds of crazy, heartless things. He wouldn’t let it go! He was yelling at the doctors, accusing them of some kind of conspiracy, demanding to see records, trying to call the police… Insisting and insisting… I finally had to ask him to leave. My own uncle, who I had been so close to, and he couldn’t just support me during the birth of my child…!”

She shook her head. “He’s backed off a little. But he’s never changed, since then. If I let him get close, sooner or later, he starts trying to cause trouble with you again. That’s bound to be the reason he wants to have lunch with us, so he can get to you. But…” A fierce, determined look. “I won’t let him. Not with my son. He’s got some sort of mental issue now, and he needs help. That’s all there is to it.”

Adrien fidgeted on the stool, as awkward as anyone listening to their mother talking about giving birth. But if Sabine had intended to quell Adrien’s curiosity, it had backfired. He was now more curious than ever. He wanted to ask more questions about his uncle. He was about to. But then--

“Now,” Sabine said, turning toward him with a frightening smile on her face. “How was school today, dear?”

Adrien swallowed hard, bracing himself.

 

.:|:.

 

“I just got off the phone with our publicist,” Gabriel said, storming into the room. “Do you mind telling me precisely what is going on with you lately?”

Marinette looked up from her drafting desk, reaching for the remote to mute the television in the corner. The excited reporter standing by the side of a runway continued gesticulating wildly on the screen, commenting on the parade of models without making a sound.

“First you were late to your own show last night,” Gabriel said, immediately beginning to pace. “I had Nathalie work all week to make it go perfectly, and then you couldn’t even grace us with your timely presence. And now I’m seeing the last batch of designs you’ve submitted, and…” He shook a stack of papers, wordless with anger.

“The designer doesn’t have to be there for a fashion show, Father,” Marinette said quietly. “All I did all night was sit in a chair and observe. No one would have noticed if I hadn’t shown up at all.”

“Maybe that’s true for other designers, but not star ones,” Gabriel said, rounding on her. “And especially not for ones so young! You’re interesting, to the newspapers and magazines. They expect to see you there! And these designs…!”

Marinette rubbed her eyes, tired. “You’ve oversold me again, Father. What on earth were you thinking, promising eighty drafts by Thursday morning? It’s Monday night, and I just finished number thirty-three.”

He laid the stack of papers down in front of her. He gripped the side of her desk, looking urgently into her eyes. “You can do this, Marinette. I know you can. I expect you to. You can meet your deadlines, and you can certainly do it without resorting to these… these…!”

Marinette looked down. She saw the problem. She could remember being very young, maybe five or six, sitting at the kitchen table with her father while he sketched and talked to her, and explained the basic rules of composition and design theory. She had absorbed it so quickly, back then, just having fun playing with something she was good at, that earned his praise and encouragement. But lately, she was overworked, struggling to come up with new, ever more creative and unique designs all the time, and a few steps were being missed here and there. She could see that just the design on the top of the stack was blocky and asymmetrical in a not good way, the flow lines of the garment jarring and not pleasing to the eye. One of the hems, if made according to her specifications, would be too heavy for the material, putting undue stress on the seams, likely making it sag in an unappealing way after only a few hours.

“I’m _disappointed_ , Marinette,” Gabriel said, making her flinch. “Your performance and output was all anyone could talk about, last winter. Is this really how you want to follow up? You’re going to embarrass yourself, if you let shoddy work like this get out to the public. You’re going to embarrass me. All of us.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Marinette said, stifling a cough. “I’ll redo them. And I’ll still get the drafts done by Thursday. I just… I’m just tired. I need to sleep.”

Gabriel frowned. He reached up, suddenly, brushing her bangs up and feeling her forehead, checking for a fever.

 _Oh great,_ Marinette thought. _Here we go again._

“Perhaps you _are_ overworked,” he suggested. “Come to think of it, this problem has only been increasing since you began at that school. I’ve been very patient with this experiment of yours, but if it’s going to cost your health, if you become sick again because of it--”

“I’m _fine_ , Father,” Marinette insisted. Trying to force herself to look alert and definitely healthy. “I am! I can do school and this both, no problem. I’ll prove it. Just… Could you tone it down a little? You keep increasing the demands, and it’s too much.”

“I do it because I care,” he said. The pencil slipped from Marinette’s grip as he suddenly picked up her small hand and held it in both of his. “How are you to get better and improve your skills, if not given adequate pressure? That’s the rule, with competitive fields like this! If you can’t keep up, you deserve it when others leave you in the dust. ...I suppose you can’t see it. I suppose, to you, I’m just the villain in this story.”

“That’s not true,” she said softly. He hadn’t been so hard on her, until Mom had disappeared. Before then, he had been kinder, gentler, still excited for her potential, but not pushing her as much. But then Mom hadn’t come home, he had briefly gone into mourning… And then changed. In a stunning, rapid transformation, he had recentered his life on Marinette and her budding career, begun pushing hard to get her designs noticed and supported and sold and critically praised. He barely ever worked on his own designs anymore, he was so focused on it. Everything in him was focused on her now.

She was grateful. She really was. Yet, as painful as it was to think about Mom, it was even worse, looking back at how she and her father had once been, knowing it was probably never coming back. More than anything, she wished…

Gabriel exhaled. Stepped away from her, looking around her study. He picked up her purse, wrinkled his nose as he pulled out three candy bars and a bag of gummy bears, and dropped them in the trash can. In their place, he produced a nutritious soy bar and some dry unsalted crackers from a pocket in his jacket, sliding them into the purse before setting it back on her chair. “Don’t stay up late tonight,” he warned. “If the doctor tells me your symptoms are returning, we’ll return to home tutoring, no exceptions. Understand?”

“Yes, Father,” Marinette mumbled, eyes downcast on the design she had been working on. She had already picked up her pencil and begun making alterations.

Gabriel nodded and turned, folding his hands neatly behind his back as he moved toward the door. “Well then. Good night.”

“Good night.”

She didn’t look up as the door closed.

“I thought this one was nice,” Tikki said softly, emerging from behind a bottle of water, leaning down to touch one of the designs Gabriel had slammed onto the drafting table.

Marinette shook her head. “He’s right. It’s garbage. I don’t know why I keep coming up with such dumb ideas lately.”

“Aw, Marinette,” Tikki said, looking up at her with a small smile. “They’re not dumb. You were right the first time-- you’re just tired! It’s not easy being Ladybug even if you _don’t_ have all of this stuff going on.”

“I can do it,” Marinette insisted, her lines darkening as she pushed down on the pencil just a little too hard. “I have to do it. I’m better than this. I can handle it, and I can do it right, and--”

“Go to _bed_ , Marinette!” Tikki said, flying up to grab the eraser end of her pencil. “Look how late it is! You’ll do better if you’re well-rested-- both at this AND at school! I like to work hard too, but at some point, you have to stop and sleep!”

Marinette turned her head to glance out the window, at the dark Paris skyline. In the process, she also caught a glimpse of the silenced television. The channel had turned away from the fashion show for a moment, it seemed, and a reporter was talking over footage of yesterday’s akuma attack, pointing out Ladybug and Chat Noir with a disapproving look. The camera followed closely as Ladybug stood up straight, a proud smile on her face, her head slightly tilted, flicking her wrist out to throw her yoyo toward the akuma, just over it…!

On the footage, it really did look as if the yoyo had closed over the dark butterfly. Still. Marinette frowned.

“Marinette!” Tikki scolded as Marinette got up and put down her pencil. The girl ignored her, walking toward the window. Dismayed, the kwami chased after her, trying to pull on her sleeve. “There’s not even an attack happening right now, or it would be on the news!” she cried. “How long are you going to keep this up?”

“For as long as it takes,” Marinette muttered, sliding the window open. “Until I can get it perfect, every time. Tikki, transform me.”

Two minutes later, Ladybug was on the rooftop of a neighboring house, looking around her with icy calm. The weather was still warm, and every now and then, a firefly could be seen, blinking for just an instant in the night before disappearing. Ladybug’s eyes were serious and focused beneath the mask, darting everywhere. The moment one flashed anywhere around her, her yoyo zipped out at it, trying to strike it.

There were times Marinette’s lungs hurt worse than others. But it wasn’t until the first time that she had transformed, that she finally understood what it was like to breathe without feeling at least a little background pain. She was so strong as Ladybug, so flexible and fast and tireless. Free. Happy.

She stayed there for hours, drilling with the fireflies over and over, chiding herself every time she missed or almost missed. Jumping, ducking, spinning, twirling, getting her technique just _perfect_. It was a little after two hours past midnight, her mind starting to go hazy with repetition and the need for sleep, when she heard distant screams.

 

.:|:.

 

“So I’m grounded from video games,” Adrien said, laying on his back on the roof tiles, looking up at the moon. “I need my laptop for school, and they don’t want to take my cellphone away and then not be able to call me when I’m out, so it had to be video games. You should have seen my dad’s face. He’s more sad about it than even I am, I think.”

“You got off lighter than I did, then,” Nino grumbled, laying beside him. “I didn’t even skip class, I was just late. And for a good reason! And still, my folks won’t get off my case about it.”

They were all laying on the tiled roof above a house, the home of some cousin of Nino’s. A birthday party was still going on downstairs, and in a few minutes, Nino would be going down to continue DJing it. But for now, he had set a playlist up to autoplay, to give himself a short break. The soft echoes of fast dance music wafted up from above, muted by the building between them and the other party-goers.

Alya cursed under her breath, sitting up and checking her blog on Nino’s phone. “You want to talk about unfair? My mom wasn’t even mad at me! And yet I might as well be grounded. They said it’s going to be another week before I can get a new phone!”

“I’m sorry, Alya,” Adrien said sincerely. “It’s like Chloe gets meaner every year. I don’t know why she has it in for you so much.”

“Because she’s a jerk and a brat,” Alya shot back. “What else is there to say? They’re all like that. Chloe. Sabrina. Marinette. All rich, entitled, bossy, _evil_ \--”

“They’re not evil!” Adrien protested. “Maybe they’re just misunderstood. There’s something in their lives that makes them think they have to act out or something, and--”

“Please,” Alya said, rolling her eyes. “It’s really sweet that you always try to see the best in people, Adrien, but c’mon. Some people are just mean.”

“I don’t know,” Adrien said, frowning. “I was talking to Marinette today, and--”

“Yes.” Nino grinned, sitting up. He reached down, picking up and opening one of the cans of soda he had snagged for them from the snack bar downstairs, glancing at Adrien out of the corner of his eye. “You and Miss Agreste…?”

Adrien blushed. “It’s not like that. We just talked. She wants to be friends with me. Is that so bad?”

Alya looked between Adrien and Nino. “He’s had it bad for her for how long, now?”

“Pretty much from the moment he saw her,” Nino said, laughing quietly. “Remember, Adrien? First day? It was raining, and girl was waiting for her ride with her little umbrella, and there was this stray dog or something that was getting wet, so of course you know that Adrien’s in trouble when she leans over and holds it over--”

“Kitten,” Adrien muttered, embarrassed. “It was a stray kitten.”

“Well, not that I get your taste in girls,” Alya said, shrugging as she glanced at Nino’s phone. “But if you like her, you should go for it, right? It’s not like you to hold back. Why are you going for the friend angle?”

Adrien sighed, accepting the soda that Nino passed him. “Because she was really lonely. She just wanted a friend, you know? If I try to go all romantic on this, she’s going to think I was just faking wanting to be her friend to get close to her. And… I’m not. She’s really amazing, and interesting, and…”

“Poor Adrien,” Nino said, patting his shoulder. “Always finding a way to be tragic about things.”

Adrien smiled ruefully. “She’s also a real-life supermodel. She’s probably way out of my league.”

Alya got up, walking over to sit on Nino’s other side. She reached down, grabbing herself a grape soda. “Well, I don’t understand it. If I like someone, I tell them. I don’t understand why people have to be so skittish about it all the time.”

“You mean like me?” Nino asked, giving her a look.

She smiled around her can, taking a sip. “Some people are cute enough to get away with it.”

Adrien looked away, suddenly awkward. He had been worried for Alya, when she had first started hanging out with them. He and Nino had been best buds for years, and she was the newcomer. He hadn’t wanted her to feel left out. She had fit in immediately, though. Really, really well. She and Nino were getting really, really, really close lately, in fact. He had to wonder if it would be much longer before he started feeling like a third wheel entirely.

The music downstairs changed, winding down to a slightly more mellow track, a break from the frenetic dance numbers. Adrien had been to enough of Nino’s performances to understand some of his more common cues. A slower track indicated maybe ten minutes before the playlist ran out, and Nino needed to be back at his station.

Nino sighed, reluctantly standing up. “Well, I’m about to go back in. My next set is maybe twenty-five, thirty-five minutes. Any requests from the snack bar, for the next time I come up?”

“Nachos!” Alya said.

“I’m good,” Adrien said. “I’ve actually got to head out soon.”

“Yeah?” Alya asked. “It’s only eight. Scared into studying for once, finally?”

Adrien smiled, running his thumb over the back of his ring. “Something like that.”

“Well, thanks for coming, dude,” Nino said, holding out his fist. “I would have died of boredom on my own. It’s been fun.”

“Not a problem,” Adrien said, bumping his fist against his friend’s. “Just sorry I can’t stay longer. You’re getting really good at this, you know.”

Nino chuckled, self-deprecating. “For an amateur.” He waved and turned, starting to walk back toward the large open window that would let him down from the roof.

Alya took another sip of her soda, looking out over the city, hair swaying gently in the breeze. “So. Your birthday is coming up soon, right? You still haven’t told me what you wanted.”

Adrien glanced at her. She was still bent over Nino’s phone, tapping away at something on her website. “You’re pretty up to date on Ladybug and Chat Noir, right? Statistics, things like that, right?”

“Psh, yeah,” Alya said, shooting him an amused glance. “Where were you the last six months? I know you’re both always secretly wishing I’d talk about ANYTHING else.”

“Just making conversation,” Adrien said, hoping that he sounded innocent enough. “I was just wondering, since you’re kind of the expert. Say, um, say Chat Noir _was_ going to pull off a surprise comeback, and start beating Ladybug. For the sake of argument. How would he do it? Does… Does she have any weaknesses he might be good at exploiting, or…?”

“Hmm.” Alya tilted her head, thinking it over. “Well, I suppose he could try--”

The red beam blasted through the roof’s edge, sending bits of tile and wood flying in every direction. Red hot pain burst through Adrien’s vision as a sharp piece of wood struck the side of his face, knocking him backward.

Alya screamed.

Adrien blinked to clear his vision, and saw her, dangling from the jagged edge of the roof, knuckles white from gripping. “Adrien!” she yelled.

“Hold on!” he said, throwing himself forward. He held out his arms, and she latched onto them, struggling to pull herself up.

“Wow,” a familiar voice muttered below. “I am just a really terrible shot, aren’t I?”

Adrien looked over Alya’s shoulder. “Super Mustache,” he gritted.

“Oh,” the man said, twirling his cane on the sidewalk below. “Have we met? No matter, I’m not here for you. Release the girl, or prepare to join her in hairy, hairy misery.”

“Ew,” Adrien said.

“Adrien,” Alya said, before slipping slightly. She held his forearms so tightly that it made her hands shake, or maybe that was just her body, dangling in the wind. “Whatever you do, don’t let go!”

“Don’t worry,” Adrien said, leaning forward slightly to get better purchase. “I wo--” The roof edge creaked beneath him. He cringed, remembering the day before, the unstable bit of roof collapsing beneath his feet. If they stayed here much longer…

“Guys!” Nino called, alarmed. He was pushing himself back through the window, running toward them.

“Nino, don’t!” Adrien yelled. “Stay back! I’ll--”

Another red blast. Nino yelped, barely ducking in time. His hat began to sprout fur, and he tore it off of his head and threw it away. “What _even_ \--?”

“Is it bad that I’m kind of sad I’m not getting this on video?” Alya asked, looking down at the steep drop below.

“Alya,” Adrien said, shaking his head as the roof warped and groaned a little more beneath their weight. “You are ridiculous.”

“So I can’t aim,” Super Mustache yelled. “Who cares? Who cares about aiming? Take this!”

A furry ball was thrown onto the rooftop, squeaking. And then another one.

“What was that?” Alya asked, unable to see. “Were those _rats_?”

“Sounded like it.” Adrien gritted his teeth as his arms began to shake with the strain of her weight, as the roof began to bow and he began to slowly slide forward. “I’m not strong enough to pull you up,” he said. Not without Chat Noir. “I don’t know what’s… I don’t know what I can--”

Cackling from below. “Now, nosy reporter,” Super Mustache said, dramatically leveling the end of his cane toward the girl dangling from the rooftop. “Put _this_ on your horrid website!” He began to charge up a beam, larger than usual.

Nino yelled from above, dodging the flailing, grasping tendrils of hair slowly growing larger from the two trapped rodents on the roof. He tripped, stumbled, and then he was falling, straight over the edge of the broken roof.

 _Nino!_ Adrien roared. That was it-- forget secret identities! Letting go of Alya with one hand, he raised his ring--

A blur, below. Something swung out of the darkness, grabbing Nino in mid-air. It threw a stray trash can lid at Super Mustache, blocking the beam, reflecting it harmlessly off into the sky.

“Ladybug!” Alya said, delighted.

“Ladybug,” Adrien agreed, groaning.

The red and black superheroine flipped acrobatically up onto the rooftop, depositing Nino a safe distance away from the edge. Almost immediately, she sprang forward again, grabbing Alya out of Adrien’s hands. He scrambled backwards, feeling bits of roof give out from the movement as he grasped for steadier ground.

Ladybug swung up again, crouching and putting Alya down. She frowned down at Super Mustache, twirling her yoyo. “Found you, little akuma,” she said softly.

Super Mustache turned and fled.

Ladybug launched herself forward, yoyo snapping out for the next roof over. She swung down, feet kicking hard into Super Mustache’s back, knocking him over. She ducked a final desperate red beam, then twisted her wrist before flicking the yoyo out, making it spin, and wrap around and around the man before pulling tight.

Without competition, the whole thing had taken her maybe a minute and a half.

“Let’s see, no wax this time,” she said, looking her prize over dispassionately. “I think…” She leaned over, ripping the man’s jacket slightly. An akuma fluttered out, terrified.

On the roof, Adrien dropped his head onto the tiles, letting out a muffled scream.

Ladybug actually smiled to herself, relieved and gratified. “You’ve done enough, little akuma,” she said, pulling her yoyo free and whirling it around. “I’m--”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s freeing it from evil, ‘bye bye, little butterfly’, we _know_ ,” Adrien said, turning away. He looked toward his two friends, sitting stunned a short distance away, feeling concerned. “Are you two alright? You’re not--”

“This. Is. Amazing!” Alya said, slowly grinning over the top of Nino’s phone, taking video. “Do you know what this means? A five point lead!”

“What?” Adrien called. “No it doesn’t. It’s the same one as yesterday!”

“What are you talking about?” Alya asked, as below a single white butterfly whipped out of Ladybug’s yoyo. Alya leaned over, cupping her hands. “Hey! Ladybug!”

Ladybug looked up.

“No, no, don’t call her over here!” Adrien said, frustrated.

“Why not?” Alya said, frowning at Adrien now. “You’re being _weird_ , you know that? She just saved all of our lives! And she _always_ runs off just before I can interview her! Just let me have this!”

Ladybug zipped up on her yoyo string, landing evenly a few feet away. “Is everything okay here? Don’t worry, I’ll fix your roof in just a second.” Her gaze swept over Nino and Alya, then landed on Adrien and paused.

Adrien held his tongue as Alya rushed forward, excited to talk to Ladybug. Okay, so Ladybug had pulled off the save today. So what, right? Alya was right. If not for her, no matter how fast he had transformed, he probably wouldn’t have saved Nino in time, might not have even been able to save Alya. He exhaled, letting his shoulders relax a little, despite his misgivings.

...Maybe he should let it go, should just be grateful that his friends were okay, instead of always thinking about nothing but the competition...

“And what about Chat Noir?” Alya continued, three questions in now, a look of concentration on her face as she tried to remember every little detail of the impromptu interview she was conducting with Nino’s phone.

Ladybug paused, confused. “What about Chat Noir?”

“This brings you to a five-point lead!” Alya said. “It’s going to be ridiculously hard for him to catch up now. Do you have any comment on that?”

“Oh. I suppose…” Ladybug thought that over for just a moment. A slight cocky smile. “Well, if he can’t keep up, then he only deserves it, if his competitor leaves him in the dust. Right?”

Adrien’s expression soured. Immediately, he forgot any good will toward the lying, cheating, opportunistic Ladybug. Silently, he slipped away from the group, scowling.

 

.:|:.

 

Lights glowed on the strip, even in the dark of night. The air roared with the sound of planes taking off and landing in the distance, engines moving up and down the tarmac. Porters and flight attendants moved around everywhere among the small crowd of late-night passengers filtering through the airport’s terminals.

One plane was almost empty, now, a flight coming in from somewhere in the south of Italy. The last of the passengers were shuffling down the staircase single-file, stiff and tired from the long flight, hefting bags and suitcases and purses and children.

Among them, a single green-eyed girl slowly stepped off the stairs, brown knee-high boots slightly unsteady for a moment as they found purchase on the ground. She flipped long brown hair over her shoulders, looking for a moment around her, expression cunning and searching.

“So. This is France.”

Lila smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9-17-16: Edited to change Wang Cheng into Sabine's uncle, not brother. My mistake, I remembered his episode wrong, and for some reason thought he was Marinette's uncle instead of great-uncle.


End file.
